Spark of Madness
by xHarleysAngelx
Summary: Sequel to "Let Fire Reign". Two months have passed since Belle Reve's criminal hoards have been let loose on Gotham's innocents. After Harley frees the Joker, things begin to get rocky between the two of them as Harley's grip on reality teeters dangerously. A lovers' quarrel is the least of their worries with the other members of the Suicide Squad on the warpath, seeking revenge.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad or any of the characters represented in this story. They are the sole property of DC Comics.

01

BANG!

The sound the gavel made as it met the surface of the podium echoed throughout the courtroom and a hushed silence fell over the crowd that had come to observe the Clown King of Crime's trial. In the very back of the room, Bruce Wayne stood silently in a corner, his lips pressed into a grimace. From where he stood, he could just make out the top of the Joker's vibrantly green head.

"The jury has reached a verdict," the judge announced. He shuffled some papers around on the podium and began reading. "The defendant is found guilty of crimes against humanity and the citizens of Gotham, and is hereby sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. Time is to be served at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, but as there are currently no vacancies at the asylum, the defendant will be held at Blackgate Penitentiary until a vacancy opens at Arkham. That is all."

The judge banged his gavel once more and then the crowd, which was made up mostly of reporters, flooded the aisles of the courtroom as the Clown King was led away from the podium by his lawyer. One reporter stood on her tiptoes and shouted to the judge, "Aren't you worried about the threat the defendant could present to the inmates of Blackgate?"

Bruce never caught the judge's answer to the reporter's question as he left the courtroom. Once he was out in the hall where there yet even more reporters he pulled his cellphone out and punched the first number on speed dial. "Bring the car around, Alfred," he said into the phone.

"Yes, sir," Alfred responded.

And with that, Bruce pocketed the phone. What a strange feeling it was; not being the object of the media's attention for once.

Then as if on cue a reporter with a photographer trailing along beside her, approached him. "I'm with the Gotham Gazette, Mr. Wayne," she said, following him down the hallway that led to the exit. "What do you think of the verdict?"

"No comment," Bruce said simply, and he pushed through the double doors of the courthouse and stepped into the dazzling summer sunlight.

This is where the wolves lay in wait, he thought as he started down the steps of courthouse, which were flooded with Joker supporters and members of the Die Laughing gang. Many of them bore picket signs with slogans like, "Free Our King!" or "Long Live the King!" painted across them.

A horn went off and a divide appeared in the crowd of protesters as a jet black limousine pulled to a halt in front of the courthouse. Then Alfred climbed out of the drivers' seat and walked around to open the back passengers' side door.

* * *

"Sorry, Harls," Deadshot muttered as he positioned himself on the rooftop of the skyscraper that stood kitty-corner to the courthouse.

For the first time in his long career as an assassin for hire, Floyd Lawton was doing a job free of charge. For himself. It had been exactly two months since the Joker had dragged Harley Quinn to his ex's home in the Narrows and threatened his daughter's life with a ruflaseia cocktail in order to use him in their revenge scheme against the Batman.

Now, it was time for Floyd to get his revenge.

He grabbed his sniper rifle off the rooftop and took aim. From where he stood, he had a perfect view of the courthouses' front steps. This would be a difficult shot, though, not just because of the Joker's guard, but because of the sheer mass of the crowd down below. Floyd had never seen anything like it. It looked like more than half the city had turned up to observe the trial.

You'd think they were waiting on some sort of celebrity to exit through those doors, which Floyd supposed, the Joker was in his own right. But this was still ridiculous. Even if he was a criminal himself, Floyd could never understand the sense of glamour people associated with this psychopath and his followers. Their fascination with Harley, though - well, that was another story.

How she had managed to end up in love with the most notorious criminal Gotham had ever known was the question of the century.

Floyd adjusted his aim just as he saw the doors of the courthouse opening, and a crowd of media hounds merged with the fans waiting on the steps. Cheers filled the air and the chanting below grew louder still.

Then just as the Joker had stepped into focus, Floyd felt someone grab him from behind as a powerful arm clad in black armor wound its way around his neck. "Man," Floyd choked, gasping as he was pulled into a chokehold. He already knew who the arm belonged to."What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking you in, Lawton," the Batman growled at him. He wrestled Floyd to the ground and pulled the sniper rifle from his grasp.

Within an instant, Floyd had pulled out a second gun and had taken aim directly at the bat's head. From this distance, there was no missing. He had him and the bat knew it.

They both froze.

"I'm doing you and the rest of the world a favor, taking him out," Floyd panted. "I'm doing what you don't have the guts to do."

"You think killing the Joker would make you a hero, Lawton?" Batman asked him. In one swift movement, he knocked the gun out of the Floyd's hand and twisted his arm behind his back. "It doesn't," he informed the assassin. "You're nothing more than a murderer, seeking his revenge."

Floyd kicked at Batman's feet and with his free hand, he grabbed yet another gun from his arsenal of weaponry. This one was a Glock 18 machine pistol. He aimed it into the air and set off three rounds right next to the bat's head, deafening him, before he came at the vigilante with a wicked upper cut.

Batman fell to the ground as screams erupted from the crowd below, his ears ringing from the gunfire. His head collided with the cement rooftop and he tasted blood in his mouth, but was spared any serious injury thanks to the cowl. He got back up, ready to counter Deadshot's next attack, but it was too late.

The assassin had gone.

Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

As gunfire rang out over the streets in front of the courthouse, the SWAT team that had been assigned to watch over the Joker guided the clown through the panicking crowd and into the armored car that was waiting at the curb. A policeman bearing a nametag that read Hernendez, closed the doors of the car and said to the driver through the window, "Onward to Blackgate." The engine rumbled to life and the car pulled away from the courthouse.

Beside him, the Joker grinned.

For about one brief moment, everything was going according to plan. Then Hernandez felt the street quake beneath his feet and turned his head just in time to see the blinding flash of light that was being emitted from somewhere within the courthouse. There was a sickening _crack_ as smoke began to pour from the windows and the base of the courthouse began to cave in on itself. Then, as if on cue, cars on either side of the street went up in flames just as the pillars supporting the roof of the courthouse groaned and fell to the street.

Hysteria filled the air as the thick black smoke that was billowing from the courthouse only mere feet behind them rolled past the windows of the armored car, blinding everyone inside of it. Hernandez had just enough time to mutter a swear before he was thrown backwards as the car lurched suddenly forward with a burst of speed. "What the -?"

But he was cut off as laughter filled the car and he looked through the window to see the SWAT guard in the front passenger seat take their helmet off and shake out long pink-and-blue pigtails. It was none other than Harley Quinn herself who leered back at him.

"Shit!" Hernandez cried, aiming his gun at her. He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger - and out popped a bright red flag with a single word printed across it: BANG!

Then he was seized under his arms by two other members of the SWAT team as the doors of the car swung open, and they threw him out onto the pavement as the car careened past the panicked citizens of Gotham.

"Happy to see me, puddin?" Harley grinned at her beloved Crown King.

"Boss, look!" the driver cried out before the Joker had a chance to respond. "It's the bat!"

Harley turned her head just in time to see Batman come flying towards them from the rooftop of a nearby building on his Batcycle. He pulled to a halt in front of them, blocking their passage to the bridge that led to the highway.

"Do I have to do everything myself around here?" Harley muttered, reaching into the space under the dash and pulling out what appeared to be a bazooka.

She rolled down the window as the car looped in a long arch to avoid crashing into the bat head on. Then she leaned outside, angling herself away from the car, aimed and fired. The rocket missed the bat altogether, hitting the overpass directly above him instead. She grinned as the overpass split open with a rumble and cars crashed into the void, filling the air with still more smoke and fire.

"Pull a U-ey," she instructed the driver, ducking back inside the car. "We won't be getting home that a way."

The driver did as he was instructed and pulled out of a sharp turn so quickly that the car was momentarily balanced on only two tires. Then they sped back towards the pandemonium that was surrounding the courthouse. In the rearview mirror, Harley glimpsed Batman close on their tail.

"Any other brilliant ideas, Harls?" the Joker asked, poking his head through the barred window.

"Pfft!" Harley scoffed. "I'll show you a brilliant idea." She pulled out her ivory-plated .22 handgun and angled herself out of the window again. Then she began shooting wildly down the street at the Batman.

The Batcycle sent sparks flying as it toppled to the ground as Harley shot out the front tire, but that didn't matter and they both knew it. Just as the bike came grinding to a halt, Batman pulled out a grappling gun and shot a hook at the roof of the armored car.

"It's time to play, boys," the Joker laughed as the Batman landed on top of the car with a thunk.

Harley climbed back in the car, and turned towards the window. "C'mere, puddin," she said, pulling out a pocket knife.

The Joker leaned forward and she promptly cut off the plastic handcuffs the police had shackled him with. Then he got to his feet and looked around at the remaining members of the SWAT team. "Gimme that," he said, yanking a gun out of the hands of the guard nearest him.

Then the doors of the armored car were flung open as they bulleted past the smoking ruins of the courthouse and Batman stood in the threshold. But the quarters they were in were too close to do any real fighting and two of the SWAT members had grabbed him by the arms in an instant. The Joker pressed the barrel of his gun against the Batman's throat as he tried to push him from the car, but Batman gripped the edges of the doorframe desperately.

Just then there was the sound of a gun being cocked and a bullet ricocheted off the edge of the door, narrowly missing the tips of Batman's fingers. Startled, the bat released his grip on the car and rolled out of sight into the crowds on the crowded street.

Grinning, the Joker turned to see who had fired the shot and found Harley grinning back at him, brandishing a shotgun at him. "You wouldn't believe the toys we've got up here," she told him.

* * *

 _"I wonder how we can survive this romance, but in the end if I'm with you I'll take the chance." - Bryan Adams_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad.

02

" _If you weren't so crazy, I'd think you were insane."_

 _Panting, Harley stood in front of the Joker beneath the highway overpass. She was covered in a cold sweat and her mind was reeling from the ECT treatment back at Arkham. Her hand was shaking as she lowered the gun and stared down at the dead trucker who lay mere feet from her:The man she had just killed._

" _See, that's the difference between you and me," the Joker said, following her gaze. "You're still playing by_ their _rules -"_

" _Is that what you think, J?" Harley said, looking at him. So that was why he was so determined to leave her behind. He still didn't get it after everything she had done for him. "You think I'm just another zombie drone, pretending to be good and hating all of them deep inside?" She shrugged. "Maybe I was, but I've learned a little from our sessions together, J."_

 _The Joker met her gaze and she couldn't help but notice the spark that shone anew in his sapphire eyes. Was it intrigue, perhaps? "Well, don't leave me hanging, doc," he purred at her. "Do tell."_

 _Harley bit back a triumphant smile -_ finally _, he was listening to her. "It's simple, really," she told him and her gaze drifted back to the dead trucker. "There are_ no _rules. There aren't any heroes or villains. The world is a madhouse and we're all patients in it, struggling to contain our madness so we don't stand out too much. And the ones who put you away -" She looked back up at him. "The Batman and the police, they're the craziest ones of all because they not only think that we can contain it but that we should contain it. They want us to be sane, even though it's really impossible. And they see how much freer you are for embracing that truth and reveling in what they call craziness, and they put you away because you see through their delusion of sanity and take it apart brick by brick. Because you're the sanest one of them all and that scares them. That's what I've learned from you."_

 _The Joker stared at her for a moment and then threw his head back, laughing. "You realize that makes zero sense, don't you?"_

" _Since when does insanity make sense?" Harley countered._

 _The Joker fell silent. Then he walked towards her, staring at her with an intensity she could not name. He circled her, considering. "Hmph," he said expressionlessly._

 _Then he walked over to his purple Lamborghini and climbed inside the drivers' seat, slamming the door behind him._

 _Harley stared at the car as she listened to the low rev of the engine. Was he actually leaving her here?_

 _Then, to her immense surprise, the Joker pocked his head out of the window of the car and said to her, "Well, are you getting in or am I gonna have to sit through another one of your temper tantrums?"_

* * *

Frost was waiting for them when they got to the docks with two identical purple Lamboghinis bearing unmarked plates and a team of men dressed up as the Avengers.

The Joker scoffed as he climbed out of the back of the armored car and took in the costumes. Before he had a chance to comment, however, Harley had thrown her arms around his neck and was kissing him deeply. Grinning, he purred into the kiss and wound his fingers into her tie-dyed hair.

"Miss me?" Harley asked, hiking her leg up between his thighs and nipping his neck gently.

The Joker kissed her forehead and murmured in a low voice that only she could hear, "It's been too long." Then he turned to Frost with raised eyebrows. "Been promoted have we?"

"Oh, yeah," Harley grinned. "Frosty here's been real helpful. Turns out he's got a real gift for the strategics. None of this would have been possible without him."

Frost suppressed a grin. "You're too kind, but I might suggest we move our conversation elsewhere?" He cleared his throat and gestured to the hijacked armored car. "The police are in pursuit and it seems unwise to linger."

The Joker considered him for a moment. "The last time I saw you, Frost, you were a sniveling moron." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad to see your promotion seems to have changed that. We'll take that car." He pointed to one of the Lambos. "You and the comic book brigade here can take the other." Then he leaned in close to Frost and added, "And don't make me regret not having killed you in the Narrows. I'm not as easy-going as Harley."

"Yes, boss," Frost said, nodding. Then he walked over to the Lambo nearest to him and climbed inside along with the Avengers, and sped off away from the docks.

Just then there was a loud splashing sound and the Joker turned in time to see the armored car sinking below the depths of the Gotham River.

Harley beamed at him from in between two of the remaining SWAT team members. "There. All taken care of."

The Joker sighed and indicated the remaining Lambo. "Get in the car, Harls."

Harley waved at the SWAT members as she climbed in the car. "We'll see you at the party."

The Joker climbed inside the drivers' seat and revved the engine as Harley raked her hand across his thigh. It was then that he noticed the tremor in her hands. He didn't need to ask what was causing it. The Happy Pills he'd begun feeding Harley shortly after they'd got together helped to temper the voices and visions inside her head, but they didn't cure them completely. Only powerful anti-psychotics were capable of that. They also had nasty side effects when taken in excess and were highly addictive. He had made sure of that.

"How long has it been?" the Joker asked as they sped away from the docks.

Harley didn't ask what he meant. She merely glanced down at her hand and removed it from his thigh, her spine rigid. She shrugged, turning her gaze to the window. "About a month." She tried to sound nonchalant.

"Weren't you able to take any with you to the safehouse?" Joker asked, already knowing the answer. He had been locked up enough times to know how these things worked.

Harley sighed. "We paid off most the guys in charge of search and seizure, but they had to take the drugs in, anyway. It would have looked too suspicious if they hadn't."

And the Joker was the only one who could contact the supplier. He had explicitly told them never to do business with Harley. It was bad enough that she weaseled away his money on extravagant shopping sprees. He didn't need her throwing it away on drugs, too - only he was allowed to do that.

"Can we _not_ talk about this?" Harley said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "It's no big deal. I just wanna get home to the club. We've all been holed up in some slum in Bludhaven -"

At that, the Joker rounded a turn so sharp and sudden that Harley was thrown from her seat and hit the glass of the windshield with a loud smack. He veered off the side of the road and put the car into Idle. "Do you mean to tell me that while I've been off _rotting_ in some jail cell you've been shacking up with other men?" he demanded.

A thin trickle of blood flowed down Harley's cheek from where she had hit her head. "Puddin -" she started.

But she was cut off when he grabbed her roughly by the chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. "You will look at me when you answer!" he spat at her. "Now, tell me the truth."

"It wasn't like that," Harley snapped, jerking sharply out of his grip. She scowled at him. "It was just me, Frosty, and the guard - we was strategizing, that's all. God, don't you trust me?"

The Joker scoffed and switched gears back to Drive. He knew Harley would never cheat on him - not without a death wish. But the idea of her holed up with those men while he had been locked up with that ache inside his chest - it made his blood run cold.

Harley gazed at him silently as they drove through the city towards the club. She knew she'd been stupid to let it slip about Bludhaven. J had always had issue when it came to trust. Deep down, she was sure that he trusted her completely, but she knew the men she'd selected for her guard in Bludhaven would be dead by morning. And she smiled in spite of everything. She couldn't help it. She loved knowing that the Joker got jealous over her. It was a testament of how much he really loved her, even if he would never admit.

And that made her feel like she was the luckiest girl in the world.

* * *

 _"You were my best mistake." -Bebe Rexha_

A/N: For those of you who don't know, the flashback in this scene is set directly after the deleted motorcycle chase scene from the extended cut. If you haven't seen it yet, I suggest you do so now.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad.

03

The problem with being a wanted man, Floyd Lawton had found, was that there was no privacy, but then that was the beauty of an untraceable account: No matter how deep the government managed to sink their claws into his personal life, it remained exactly that - untraceable. It was thanks to the hefty sum of money that he had managed to store away into that account over the years that Floyd was able to rent out a small apartment in the Narrows under a false name from a seedy landlord.

He rarely stayed there, however. Instead he drifted from one irreputable motel to the next and used the apartment to store his gear and as a headquarters for his investigation on Harley Quinn and the Joker. After the Joker had been taken in, Harley had disappeared from Gotham without trace. But Floyd had been certain that she was biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to free the Joker. He had been right.

In the meantime, Floyd decided to do some digging into their past and see what he could use to take them down. Not that he wanted to take Harley down. Then again, she _had_ brainwashed him into doing her psychotic boyfriend's dirty work, so it probably wouldn't hurt to take her down a peg or two.

There weren't many people who were willing talk to, though, so he hadn't learned much that he didn't already know.

"Don't worry, Zoe," Floyd said into his cellphone as he rounded the third floor landing that led to his apartment. It had been only hours since his failed attempt on the Joker's life and the word was out on the street: The clown was out of the box. That meant he had to regroup. He had changed out of his Deadshot uniform and stowed it away in a duffle bag, which was slung across his shoulder. "We'll see each other soon," he promised his daughter, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

He nodded as he walked over to the apartment labeled 3G and unlocked the door. Then he opened the door and paused. "Uh, sweetie," he said after a moment of silence. "I've got to go." He punched the END button on his phone. Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Do me a favor, Croc, and try not to eat any of my neighbors."

The apartment was a small, dingy studio with the living room and kitchenette made up of a single room with a curtain separating the bathroom from the rest of the place. A futon had been pushed up against the far wall and a wrought iron dining set stood in front of the sole window beside the refrigerator. Dominating the futon was none other than the Killer Croc himself, Waylon Jones, and sitting beside him was Digger Harkness - AKA Captain Boomerang.

A growl escaped Waylon's scaly lips as he grinned up at Floyd. "Miss me?"

Floyd said nothing as he walked over to the large safe that stood beside the futon and spun the dial. He threw the duffle bag inside unceremoniously and looked down at the two of them. "I thought the Bat took you guys in."

"Everyone's got a price," Digger smiled at him. Then he saw the questioning look on Floyd's face, he added simply, "Bribed the judge."

Floyd scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "International bank robber. I'd forgotten."

"And jewel thief," Digger reminded him.

"And you?" Floyd shot at Waylon, striding across the room to the fridge. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

Waylon shrugged. "Ate the guards," he said as though it should have been obvious.

Floyd popped the cap off his beer. "I had to ask," he said, taking a sip. "How long have you been here?"

"Three days," Digger said. "So the rumors are true, I take it." He gestured to the cork board that stood beside the bathroom door. It was covered in newspaper articles about Harley Quinn, the Joker, and the Die Laughing gang.

"What rumors?" Floyd asked, narrowing his eyes at him. "Someone been talking shit?"

Digger looked at him. "Word on the street is you're trying to take out the clown."

"We want in," Waylon added.

Floyd set his beer down on the counter. "So that's why you're here."

"He humiliated us on national television," Digger said, getting to his feet. "He made us into his puppets -"

Floyd cut him off. "And your point is?" he asked him. "Look, I don't need your help. I got this."

Digger shook his head slowly. "That's where you're wrong, mate. I'm guessing you've heard of The Madhouse?"

"The Madhouse?" Floyd repeated. "That's his club, isn't it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I've heard of it, alright. It's some sort of elite, invitation only type thing. A playground for the richest of the rich and the baddest of the bad. You could be a lifelong member of the Die Laughing gang and never set foot inside."

"Members only," Digger said, nodding.

"You got yourself a membership?" Floyd asked him.

Digger shrugged. "No."

"Then what the hell are you doing here then?" Floyd said, laughing bitterly. First, the Bat screwed up his assassination attempt and now this. This was turning out to be some day.

"We know someone who _is_ a member," Digger grinned up at him.

* * *

The Lamborghini skidded to a halt outside of The Madhouse as a heavy rain fell over Gotham. The door was striped with police tape and the parking lot was the emptiest Harley had ever seen it. Jonny Frost appeared at her door, carrying an umbrella.

"Thank you, Frosty," she grinned as he held the door open for her.

"No problem," Frost said simply.

Then the Joker joined them under the umbrella. "Is everything taken care of?" he asked.

Frost nodded. "We shot out the security cameras in case the cops had tapped into the feed and took out the goons that were covering the place. We restocked the closets a week ago to get ready for your arrival. Right now, we're just disposing of the bodies and getting ready for tonight's party."

"So what are we standing around here for?" Harley said. She stepped out from under the umbrella and strode across the parking lot to the club's main entrance. "Honey, I'm home!" she called out, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The club was just as beautiful as she remembered it with its black walls, plush white leather seats, glass dancing cages, and the thin gold chains that dangled from the ceiling, separating the VIP booths from the rest of the club. The effect was slightly ruined, however, by the half dozen dead bodies that were lying in the middle of the floor.

"Home sweet home."

Harley turned to see the Joker standing behind her in the doorway with Frost beside him, closing the umbrella.

Frost cleared his throat. "We're, uh, still taking care of the clean up." He gestured to a group of henchmen that stood nearby. "Will you take care of that?"

Harley shrugged. "As long as it's ready for tonight."

"I take it the penthouse is in better shape?" the Joker asked.

"C'mon," Frost said, beckoning them to follow him and he led them to the back staircase that led to the penthouse over the club. "I'll show you."

Harley skipped after him with the Joker at her heels. She gasped and let out a squeal of delight when Frost threw open the front door, and she was immediately tackled by their twin hyenas, Bud and Lou. "My babies!" she cried out happily, allowing them to lick her face and slobber all over her.

The Joker stepped over her into the living room and surveyed the penthouse, but everything seemed to be in order. "You restocked the weapons vault?" he asked Frost.

"Of course, sir," Frost said, nodding.

"I told you, puddin," Harley said, brushing the hyenas away from her and getting to her feet. "Frosty's got it all taken care of."

"You live to see another day, Frost," the Joker grinned, clapping him on the back.

Harley pushed past the two of them and wandered down the hall into the bedroom. "C'mon, puddin!" she called after her. "We gotta get ready for the party."

She paused in the doorway of the bedroom, taking in the scene. It had been _weeks_ since she had been in here and boy, had she missed it. The floor was covered in thick, black carpeting and the back wall was dominated by a large rounded platform bed covered with a silky purple comforter and matching sheets. In the corner of the room a swing hung from the ceiling, supported by thick metallic cords beside a pair of gilded French doors that opened onto the balcony terrace where she could see her hammock swinging in the breeze.

"What do you say we have some fun first?"

Harley jumped as the Joker wound his hands around her waist and began kissing her neck, biting deep into her jugular. He began unbuttoning the pesky SWAT armor she had been wearing for most of the day. "Pretty please," he purred into her ear.

"Let's put that bed to some good use," she giggled, turning to face him.

* * *

Harley sat silently at the vanity in her walk-in, dressed in a red and black baroque patterned minidress. Frowning, she dabbed away at the thin stream of dried blood on her cheek with a makeup sponge. Her reflection in the mirror shimmered.

" _It won't be the last time,"_ Harleen's voice whispered in her ear.

Harley stared at the doctor's face in the mirror. "It was an accident," she said reassuringly. "My puddin would never hurt me - he knows better. Besides," she added, "none of that matters. All that matters is that I got my puddin back."

" _He uses you,"_ Harleen told her. " _But one day, your usefulness will run out. One day, they'll catch him and you won't be able to free him. Then he will see to it that you're dead."_

"Nag, nag, nag," Harley huffed, getting to her feet. She turned away from the vanity. "Can't you just enjoy the party, lady?"

Harleen was suddenly staring up at her from within the depths of the full-body mirror that hung on the door. Then there were half a dozen Harleens and when Harley looked around, she saw that they weren't in the closet anymore. Instead they were standing on a narrow ledge, overlooking a vast chasm of nothingness.

The doctors crowded around Harley and hissed at her unison, " _You celebrate the return of a murderer!"_

Harley reached out with a shaking hand and jabbed the nearest Harleen in the chest. "Lady, I _am_ a murderer."

"Harls?"

She turned to see the Joker standing on a cliff on the opposite end of the chasm. "Puddin?" she gasped, and a rickety, narrow rope bridge sprang into view.

But he was turning away from her. Then he was walking away - leaving her.

"Puddin!" Harley cried out, starting after him, but one of the Harleens moved in front of her, blocking her path. A second one grabbed her by her arms, holding her back. "Get off of me!" she growled at the doctor.

"Harley?"

Harley blinked and looked around silently. She was back in the closet. She had ended up on the floor somehow and her arms were tangled in a dress that had been ripped from its hanger.

The Joker stood over her.

"Puddin?" Harley blinked up at him. She reached out for him, shakily, her arms dripping with cold sweat. She noticed Frost standing in the doorway behind him.

The Joker grabbed Harley by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "We heard yelling."

"Uh, yeah," Harley said, thinking quickly. "I wanted to ask -"

The Joker reached out and covered her mouth with his tattooed hand. "You know how I feel about liars, Harls," he warned her.

Harley stared at him. She never lied to him. So why had she just been about to? That wasn't like her. She looked away from him, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry, puddin," she said. "I -" She broke off as the floor beneath her feet began to quake with the sounds of hip hop music.

"Fashionably late as per usual," the Joker said, smirking in spite of himself. "Are you sure you're okay to go to this party, Harls?"

"Course I am," Harley said quickly, nodding. "There's no way I'm missing this."

* * *

Two hours later, the Joker watched Harley dance in her glass cage with a cell phone pressed to his ear. "No, no, I'm ready to meet whenever you are," he assured the dealer on the other end of the line. "But my harlequin's been quite the naughty, little girl, leaving me in that jail cell for so long. Let's draw it out for a few days, shall we - I have a feeling things will be more interesting this way."

"I'm not sure if that'd be wise," the dealer said. "It'll be hard enough getting her readjusted to the drug, but withdrawal can have some pretty serious side-effects. Maybe even seizures -"

The Joker cut him off. "And if that happens, then you'll just have to do your job, won't you, _doctor_?" He put a careful emphasis on the word.

The dealer sighed. "As long as you are aware of the risks, Mr. J. I'll see you in a few days then."

"It's good to see you back, Mr. J."

The Joker pressed the END button on his cell phone and looked up to see a tall, thin honey blond in a silvery dress, smiling at him through the curtain of golden chains. "Mind if I have a seat?" she simpered at him.

A slow grin spread across the Joker's lips as he took in the barely legal girl before. She was either very brave to approach to him or very stupid, and she was even stupider still to have infiltrated his club. Someone must have sent her. "Not at all."

She slid into the white leather booth directly across from him. "Gotham wasn't the same without you," she smiled at him. "I am surprised to see you back here so soon, though. Shouldn't you be in some sort of a safehouse?"

"The cops know where to find me," the Joker assured her.

"But you've got most of them in your pocket," the girl laughed, nodding.

"Who the hell are you?"

They looked up at see Harley, scowling at the girl as she pushed aside the chains. She climbed into the booth and sat down in the Joker's lap, draping one arm around his neck. Her other hand fiddled with the .22 Magnum strapped to her thigh.

"Forgive me," the girl said quickly. "I've forgotten to introduce myself - I'm Eliza D'Angelo. I'm an associate of Carmine Falcone's."

"Oh, is that so?" The Joker exchanged a glance with Harley. "And I suppose there's a reason Mr. Falcone couldn't come see me himself?"

"Mr. Falcone is a busy man," Eliza told him. "And he does not mean to disrespect you with his absence. He was most impressed with your get-away this afternoon. Gotham will be in shambles for quite some time, thanks to you."

"That was all Harley's doing," the Joker told her.

"I see," Eliza said, avoiding Harley's gaze. She kept her eyes locked on him instead. "You must be very proud."

"Why are you here?" Harley asked before the Joker had a chance to respond.

For the first time since her arrival, Eliza met Harley's steely gaze. "Mr. Falcone wishes to request a favor from the King of Gotham." She turned back to the Joker. "You see, he has not forgotten the favor he did for you himself in your latest attempt to seek revenge against the Batman. Now, it is time for you to repay him."

The Joker's grin widened as he laughed. "You think that you can come into _my_ club and demand favors from _me_?"

"Mr. Falcone -" Eliza began but she fell silent when she saw the gun Harley had drawn in her trembling hand. She did not flinch. "Mr. Falcone," she went on, "has done you a kindness, sir. Surely, you wish to repay him?"

BANG!

The bullet Harley shot missed her so narrowly it grazed her cheek, leaving behind a thin trickle of blood. She got to her feet and cocked the gun, aiming it at the very center of Eliza's forehead. "You tell your boss that the Joker don't do favors and that his kindness is reserved for the _Queen_ ," Harley said, her words slurring despite the fact that she hadn't had any liquor that night. "And stay the hell away from my man."

Eliza scowled at her. "I see we'll just have to do this the hard way," she said, getting to her feet. She turned and stalked off into the depths of the club.

"Your man?" the Joker laughed once she was out of earshot.

Harley lowered her trembling hand. "Shut up," she said simply.

* * *

" _It's better to love whether you win, or lose, or die." - The Airborne Toxic Event_


End file.
